Chapter Twenty-Five
OPHELIA
OPHELIA
Meeting one’s parents happens relatively fast in traditional courtship—the problem is that I’ve never been traditionally courted.
Before my first love, Ethel, I had a series of short-lived lovers who never amounted to much.
When Ethel and I began courting, I had no parent to introduce her to, and I already knew her parents quite well.
The most I can do to prepare for this meeting is wear a clean gown—lavender to match my wings. I pull the cloth from my hair and twirl my curls around my finger, hoping desperately that the set will come out well.
Impressing royalty is near impossible for someone like me, but I’m trying for the sake of my courtship with Emyr… and perhaps the fate of the palace. Emyr claims to love me, and if the prophecy is true, our marriage may break the curse.
Usually, I would say it’s too soon to think about marriage, but we have few other choices.
My curls are soft and not too tight. At least one thing is going well. I leave a few tendrils around my face and pile the rest of my hair on my head.
There’s a gentle knocking on my door.
“Come in,” I say, already knowing who it is.
Emyr is as dashing as he has ever been; in his golden suit, he is the very picture of the sun, standing before me with an equally vibrant smile. “I would ask if you’re ready, but it appears you are.”
“Physically, I am.” I step away from the looking glass. “I don’t know if anything can prepare me mentally for what comes next.”
He steps closer and takes my hands in his. “They’ll be polite, if that is your concern.”
“Decorum is the least of my worries—it’s that they’ll not like me. As far as they can see, I’m the one who ruined your betrothal to a princess. That would have been a far more advantageous marriage for you.”
“Marrying her wouldn’t have broken the curse, and they’ll realize that. If they’re upset about anything, it’s the last-minute change in plans.” His expression softens. “And perhaps that’s my fault… for not realizing sooner.”
After all, he and Minetta were set to marry on the next full moon. I am either the one who can save them or the one who stopped Minetta from doing so. I won’t blame them for disliking me.
“Let us not make them wait any longer,” I say.
He squeezes my hand and leads me out. Perhaps the touch is meant to comfort me, but I’m still growing accustomed to being able to be close to him at all. It sends my heart racing, as do the words that accompany the display of affection.
“You look lovely,” he murmurs. “I adore this color on you.”
“As you should.” I attempt a smile, but it feels halfhearted. “It’s the color of my wings, and I can do little to change that.”
“I don’t wish you to change anything about yourself, big or small.”
Sweet words can’t stop my racing heart. We meet his parents in a dining hall, one I’ve only been to when working.
Am I truly allowed to dine in places like this, with high chandeliers and tables abundant with food?
The candles flicker, and a hint of rosemary and sage fills the air.
White plates etched with red flowers are placed over the pristine tablecloth.
His mother’s eyes sharpen to take me in. “You work for us, do you not?”
I curtsy. “Yes, Your Majesty, I do.”
The king clicks his tongue. “That won’t do. If the others find out—”
“Her employment doesn’t matter.” Emyr pulls out my chair. “Our goal has always been to break the curse. When did that change?”
“The goal is the same,” the queen says. “But to compare a maid to a princess—”
Emyr silences his mother with a sharp look. “Then do not compare them.”
The queen presses her lips together.
As I expected, I’m a disappointment to them. Heavens above, how I wish to bolt. The weight of scrutiny pushes me into the solid, wooden floor. I glance at the door, pining for escape, but Emyr clears his throat and gestures to the chair he’s pulled out.
I sit down and plaster on a polite smile. “It is lovely to meet you, despite the odd circumstances. My intention is the same as yours—to break this curse that has fallen over your once beautiful land.”
The queen sniffs and looks down her nose. “I suppose that’s why you are rushing your betrothal, and so soon after he ended the betrothal with dear Princess Minetta?”
My lips part, but no sound escapes.
“You are the reason we are rushing,” Emyr drawls. “Or did you forget?”
“Ah, yes.” The queen smiles coldly. “I suppose I had forgotten.”
“And is this not in your best interest?” Emyr says, his voice taut. “In the best interest of us all—everyone but Ophelia and me, actually. Do you not think I would prefer a more private courtship? That is a luxury I have not been afforded.”
While he does not say it aloud, everyone in the room knows what he truly means to say. Our betrothal must follow such a rapid path because of his father’s past dalliances. I watch Emyr from the corner of my eye.
The king clears his throat. “Emyr is right. If we can take care of this curse business, the details don’t matter. I’m pleased to bless your union, so long as you are married on the harvest moon.”
Yet, it doesn’t feel like a blessing at all.
“We will be,” I say evenly.
“Well…” The queen sighs. “Onto our first course, then. I look forward to getting to know you better.”
She may be looking forward to it, but I can hardly bear the thought.
EMYR
Dinner goes as well as one can expect. My parents ask Ophelia countless questions, and to my surprise, she dodges most of them. Only once we leave do I realize that she knows everything about me, and I have much more to learn about her.
Of course, the real problem is that we’re keeping secrets from my family—like the secret of her being a halfling. They’re believers in the prophecy, and while the role of the halfling is only vaguely stated, I’m sure they won’t want to take any chances.
I’m more hopeful. The prophecy states the halfling will bring ruin, but what if she brings ruin to the curse itself?
Voicing it aloud is too optimistic.
Ophelia groans as we wander upstairs. “That was dreadful.”
Without asking, she’s invited herself to my bedchamber, and while some might find it improper, I certainly have no complaints. We have already been quite inappropriate by those people’s standards.
“I didn’t expect anything less.” I chuckle. “For what it’s worth, you did a wonderful job… and it went a bit better than expected. They seem to agree to our courtship rather than forcing me to end it. That is something.”
Her eyes widen, and she stops on top of the staircase, turning to look at me. “Do you truly think they would do that?”
“It’s hard to say. My parents make little sense to me. I’ve always known that to break the curse, I would have to marry for love. Now I find love, and they seem suspicious of it.”
She lifts a shoulder and turns away, continuing until she reaches my bedchamber. “Someone who didn’t choose love may think it’s strange to witness one who does.”
This may be an opportunity to learn more about her. The question is poised on my lips, but it feels trapped there as I struggle with the fear of pushing her away.
“What about your parents?” I ask. “Did they marry for love?”
She freezes. “I don’t know. My mother passed away when I was a babe, and my father barely spoke of her. Perhaps that level of heartbreak means he loved her, but I can’t say.”
Though I yearn to know more about her, I take what little she gives me and hold on tight. It’s something—a flicker, a beginning. We’re both learning to navigate true love, but I don’t doubt that she is my truest love.
“I see.” I open my bedchamber door. “Are you joining me for the evening, then?”
“Yes.” Her cheeks darken. “That is to say, I would like to… if you will have me.”
“You’re welcome whenever you would like.” I’m relieved not to spend the evening alone.
Any new courtship lacks a stable foundation, and my parents’ interference does little to help matters.
Ophelia is likely unaccustomed to the poking and prodding that comes with being part of a royal family.
I long to protect her, even if loving me is what thrusts her so gracelessly into such scrutiny.
She shuts the door behind us with a snick.
I tuck a curl behind her ear. “Are you all right?”
“I am.” She looks down. “It’s sad that your parents don’t like or approve of me, but I’ll grow used to it with time.”
“What they think doesn’t matter. I know you are the one.”
She manages a half-smile. “That does ease the sting, yes.”
I hold her face between my hands, touching her with a precious tenderness I’ll reserve for only her sweet features. Her soft, pink lips and flushed face will always bring me great comfort, and I long to do the same for her. “Please, my darling halfing, don’t let my family get between our love.”
“I won’t. You’re not the only one who knows about family woes.”
I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “Tell me about yours.”
“You already know I lost my father…”
I nod, waiting.
“I was left with my stepmother after his death. She was a cruel woman. She took everything from me—my title, my land, and my joy. That was when I began cleaning. She always said I had to earn my stay, even though we were in my family home.”
How could anyone be so cruel to the child of their spouse? “What a wretched woman.”
“She is, but I’m free now.” Ophelia pushes closer, her lips grazing against my mouth. “She can’t touch me here. No matter how cursed your palace is, this is the place that freed me. I adore being here, in your land, and I won’t let another parental figure take my joy from me.”
“I won’t allow it, either.”
Ophelia holds my waistcoat tightly, keeping me close as her lips part against mine. She pushes her tongue into my mouth and sighs sweetly.
“I think I’d like you to make me shake in a proper bed for once,” she whispers.
“Did you know”—with my hands on her plush, wide hips, I guide her to the bed and push her onto it—“I have the largest bed in the castle?”